Big Iron
by RogueCourier
Summary: Five years after the NCR's second victory over the Legion at the Hoover Dam, things aren't looking much better for the ever-expanding nation. A sinister plot, old enemies, new allies, and a certain reclusive courier come together for one more mission.
1. Chapter 1

_To the town of Agua Fria rode a stranger one fine day…_

A bottle of whiskey, a cushioned chair, the sun starting to set, and my favorite song playing on the radio. What more could a man want? Another lazy end to another lazy summer day in the Mojave Wasteland. It was about eight or nine in the evening; I'm not sure. The old grandfather clock against the wall hadn't worked in months. And that suited me just fine, honestly.

_The morning passed so quickly, it was time for them to meet…_

The bottle half-empty, my thoughts began to drift. Almost immediately, I thought of the battle, five years ago. The Wasteland had never been the same, since then. I guess that's partly why I was here, in this shack in the middle of nowhere, downing a bottle of whiskey on a lazy Sunday evening, to get away from it all. Sure, it had changed for the better in most ways. Towns that had barely gotten by before were now bustling due to NCR settlers moving east. And hell, it's infinitely better than if the Legion had taken the dam. Still… I couldn't help but think, what would it have been like if I hadn't gotten involved? If I hadn't helped the NCR, and just stayed in quiet Goodsprings, living off the land with the rest of the townsfolk?

_Oh he might have went on living, but he made one fatal slip_  
><em>When he tried to match the ranger with the big iron on his hip.<em>  
><em>Big iron on his hip…<em>

I tossed the bottle aside, making sure every last drop was gone. Inevitably, my thoughts turned to Cass, and shortly after, to Boone. We'd gone through a lot in those few short months leading up to the battle. I hadn't heard from either of them in years, after we went our separate ways. I found myself wondering where they'd gone? After we defended Bitter Springs, Boone talked about signing on with the NCR military again, rejoining 1st Recon. _I wonder if he's happy with his old squad mates,_ I thought. And Cass; where had she gone? After selling the rights to Cassidy Caravans, I got the impression she didn't really have anywhere to go. Hell, that's probably half the reason she'd decided to travel with Boone and me.

From there, my thoughts drifted to the night after the Battle, when we "celebrated" in my quarters at Camp McCarran. That was the last time I saw her; only an empty whiskey bottle lay by my bed as a parting gift. I've still got it somewhere in the shack…

As the whiskey began to take hold, and sleep started to creep up on me, I tilted my hat over my eyes, blocking out the sun. All this reminiscing was starting to get depressing, and It was starting to get late. Nodding off to sleep didn't seem like such… a bad… idea…

A loud, anxious knock at the door disturbed me, just as I was about to drift off. Grumbling, I got up from the chair, slightly tipsy from the alcohol, and shuffled to the door.

Well, this was unexpected…

"Cass…?" I stammered, sobered from the surprise of seeing my old flame at the door. "Cass, what the hell are you doing here?" It was then that I noticed she was clutching her side, and that her shirt was soaked with blood.

"Wes… they finally found me…"

And with that, she collapsed.


	2. Chapter 2

Hopefully, I can keep the ball rolling with this one. Too many of my stories have died due to lack on inspiration. My muse is oh-so-fickle, so I have really have to catch it on a good day. This chapter in particular mostly came to me while I was sitting in a coffee shop, listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd. Anyway, R&R, enjoy, etc.

Whoever Cass's assailant was had really done a number on her. It took me about an hour, but I was able to remove all the shrapnel, clean the cuts and punctures, and stitch her back up. On top of that, her ribs had been broken in two places. What really bugged me wasn't the injuries themselves, though. It was what had inflicted them. I treated all sorts of injuries back during the war; everything from shrapnel, to severe burns, to just about every bullet wound known to the Mojave. But above all, the most common injury I had treated had been machete wounds, inflicted by Caesar's legionaries. They left a rather unique laceration, and I get the sense that his soldiers prided themselves on it. Now, five years later, Cass stumbles up to my door, pockmarked with machete wounds, as if she'd gone toe-to-toe with a couple legionaries. The whole thing was damn unnerving…

When she finally woke up, it was about noon, the next day. I'd been in the chair, stripping down the revolver to clean it when she came to on the couch.

"Ugh…" she groaned, hand on her forehead. "What the fuck… Where am I? I need a drink…"

"Hehehe, good old Cass," I said, chuckling. "You wake up God knows how long after being stabbed, cut up with a machete, and shot, and the first thing you have to say is 'I need a drink'. There's some emergency whiskey on the table there. Help yourself."

Groaning, she reached over, uncapped the bottle, and proceeded to down it with speed unmatched by anyone I'd ever seen.

"Well, fuck… I take it you were the one who patched me up?" I nodded. "Heh, I knew coming here was a good idea- Ow, damn!"

"Whoa, whoa, take it easy there," I said as I rushed over to the couch. "You're the toughest chick I know, but you're not going anywhere with two broken ribs."

"Shit… man, this hurts like hell…"

"What, you don't think I did a good enough job?" I couldn't help but laugh at the lady's tenacity.

"No, no, I… thanks. I don't know what I would've done without you."

"Ah, don't mention it. It's the least I can do for an old friend."

A thought suddenly crossed my mind. This was just like that fateful day back in Goodsprings. That Doc Mitchell was a regular lifesaver. Without him and Victor, I'd be just another cruel casualty of an even crueler wasteland. The only difference now was that I was the lifesaver. Funny… I wonder what the old doc would think…

"So," I asked, a couple hours later. "What do you remember?" Cass had since worked up the strength to sit up without doubling over in pain, but I sat beside her just in case.

"Not sure… got any more whiskey?"

"Cass, I'm serious."

She sighed deeply. "Alright. Does the name Vulpes mean anything to you?"

Ha! Did it ever… That worm was the reason I hated the Legion so passionately. He embodied everything I despised about them. That day in Nipton five years ago left me embittered. What he did was unforgivable; I would've shot right then and there were it not for the fact that five other legionaries and two mongrels were all standing around, poised to strike. Walking away from the town, I silently vowed to one day put a bullet in his head; a vow I, sadly, was never able to fulfill.

"Yeah… we've had dealings in the past." A boiling anger was rising in the pit of my chest.

"Figured. I got jumped by a couple o' thugs, scavving over in Bonnie Springs. Figured they were just chem addicts, or something, so I gave 'em a couple warning shots. Big mistake… as I was reloadin', the cowardly fucks pulled out machetes and attacked me. Didn't look like they were tryin' to kill me though. One of 'em said something like 'Vulpes is coming for you' or some shit. They told me to send the message on to you, so here I am… You sure are good at makin' friends, aren't you?"

Great. Just fuckin' great. I'd had my suspicions, of course, but this would seem to confirm them. For years, I'd heard reports over the radio of NCR citizens being targeted by raider attacks, but that usually happens anyway.

"I suppose the NCR can't do anything about it, either," I said, only half serious. Sure, they meant well, but NCR forces were spread too thin over too much space.

"Ha, yeah, like they've ever been able to do anything right. Maybe if those limp-dick politicians back in California got their heads out of their asses, they could spare the troops…"

I sighed deeply. "Guess it's up to me to save the day again, huh?" It's not that I don't like playing the peacekeeper, it's just that I was getting a little bit tired of cleaning up the NCR's mess. When would they learn that this expansionism would be the death of them someday?

"Oh hell no, I'm going with you!" Cass said, anger lacing her words. "I've got a score to settle with those shits!"

"Not with those broken ribs, you're not. Doctor's orders."

"Fuck that!" She started to get up from the couch, only to double over in pain and fall back down. "Dammit!"

"Cass, please." I placed a hand on her shoulder, genuinely concerned. "I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you on my account. They said they wanted me, and that's what they're gonna get. You need to heal up. Don't worry, I'll only be gone for a day or two. I can handle a few thugs playing at being legionaries."

Somehow, my words slowly eased the defiance in her eyes.

"Goddammit, fine… But you're the _only_ one who could convince me otherwise, y'know. Damn, I'm gettin' soft…"

"'Atta girl. Sit tight, help yourself to the whiskey, and I'll be back before you know it."


End file.
